


Weird For Some

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drabbles, M/M, asexual Kenma, non-binary kenma, queerplatonic KuroKen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 07:31:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3166625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroo and Kenma have a certain type of friendship. For them, it's normal. But it would certainly be weird for some. </p>
<p>A collection of KuroKen oneshots</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Movies

For Kenma and Kuroo, watching movies is always an adventure. Kuroo finds it incredibly difficult to choose something that will get the other to look up from their phone for an extended period of time. Not that it generally matters - Kenma isn't exactly prone to discussing the aftermath of viewing of any description.

Generally, it dissolves into Kuroo talking rapidly at him while they make small sounds and nod occasionally. And that's okay. Most people would assume that meant Kenma was uninterested; and sure, didn't exactly come across as the most attentive listener. Kuroo, however, knew differently. Kenma cared; they were listening. They just didn't show it in a conventional way.

Level of attentiveness aside, the was still the problem of the current decison. Glancing back down at the selection of movies in his hand, Kuroo voiced his question.

"Hey Kenma. What do you want to watch, Guardians of the Galaxy, Frozen, or The Notebook?"

His companion's gaze left their game for barely a moment, eyes flicking over from where they sat, curled up against the arm of the lounge. A small, noncommittal hum emanated from their lips as their shoulders rose, and that was all the answer Kuroo was getting.

With a sigh, he rolled his eyes and plucked out The Notebook. Kenma never really had been one for singing, (even though they'd always seemed to reserve a special place in their heart for the High School Musical trilogy) and Guardians seemed a little too fast paced for Kuroo's current low level of concentration. Flicking on the TV, he slid the disc in, snatching up the remote as he makde his way over to the sofa.

There's an entire expanse of cushion available, but he flops his ass down right next to Kenma, arm settling on the back of the couch behind them. Titling his head to the side, he leans in closer, almost nuzzling their cheek.

"What are you playing?" he asks, eyes alighting on small, unfamiliar figures, all smiles and revealing outfits. He's seen most of Kenma's games often enough to know them by sight, but this is one he doesn't recognise. "Is it new?"

Yellowy hair brushes against his cheek as Kenma nods their reply, quiet voice speaking out their answer.

"Yes. A lot of people have been playing it recently. It's cute."

Watching, interested, as Kenma's fingers tap out a steady rhythm, Kuroo drops his head to the others shoulder, hand fumbling to drag the blanket that had bunched up at their side over both of them. Head still resting on his friends shoulder, he retrieved the remote, firmly pressing play. A break in their game, and Kenma's head flits up, as they turn slightly into Kuroo.

"What did you choose?"

"The Notebook." murmurs the black haired boy into their shoulder, and the quiet hum he receives in reply lets him know he made the best choice.

The movie is average, at best. A lot of cheesy romance and crying in the rain that Kuroo isn't really that into. But it's okay, because he's there with Kenma, and the movie isnt the real reason he came over. It's moreso an excuse, background noise that he can use as a reason to wiggle closer to the other and wrap his hand tighter around their shoulder.

Kenma doesnt complain, simply shifting until they can better move their hands. Nor do they reciprocate, but Kuroo's perfectly fine with that.

It doesn't take long before he gives up altogether on any pretence of watching the movie, turning his face to press it into Kenma's neck, soft hair tickling across the bridge of his nose. With a sleepy, incomprehensible murmur, he rubs his nose into the smooth stretch of their skin.

"You feel like a cat." Kenma tells him shortly, an admission that curls Kuroo's lips into a grin as he nuzzles with a renewed vigour.

"That's good right? You like cats."

If Kenma was more of the petty sort, Kuroo wouldn't be surprised to see them stick their tongue out in reply. Instead he simply receives a dry, "Yes. But it's sort've weird when it's you." that has a short peal of laughter escaping his lips.

He likes messing with Kenma, and they both know it. Dropping the teasing, he finds himself closing his eyes, the warmth of his resting place and the low drone of angst ridden voices in the background making it all too easy to slowly drift off.

When his breathing slows, the long, steady puffs against Kenma's neck growing less frequent, the other knows he's fallen asleep. Moving gently, they pause their game, glancing over at the steady rise-and-fall motion of his chest. It's only for a moment, but it sends a small grin dancing across their lips, until they turn back to the light of their phone.

It's warm with Kuroo's arm around them, and even though he'll probably start snoring soon and ruin it, Kenma's glad that they're here.


	2. Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set earlier than chapter 1, when Kenma was still unaware of asexuality and Kuroo found himself harbouring feelings for them.

Kissing was a cautious activity, all unsure hands and awkward angles. Kenma had never really enjoyed it, but they knew they were meant to. Kuroo seemed to like it, making small sounds in the back of his throat as he threaded fingers through their hair. His lips felt rough and weird, however, and Kenma just found themselves standing there solidly until he was done. 

When the taller boy straightened, his breath was still short, puffing through the cool air, hand trailing through the strands of Kenma's hair until it turned into an awkward head-pat.

"Nothing?" he prods, head tilting to the side in a waterfall of tousled black. Mutely, Kenma shakes their head. Nothing at all. Again. 

Expression collapsing into something disgruntled and a little irritated, Kuroo kicks at the ground, hands shoving deep inside coat pockets. 

"I dunno then. I mean, it was fun enough for me. A bit weird honestly, but not 'nothing.'"

Kenma feels like they should apologise, but they don't think that's what Kuroo wants. What he wants is for Kenma to enjoy it the same way he does - to not have to experience the blank emptiness that they finds instead. 

Detachedly, the short blond shoves fisted gloves inside their pockets, fingers curling around the comforting shape of their phone. Raising it is like a wall, a safety barrier between them and everyone else - between them and the thought of being broken in some way. 

Kuroo thinks it's his fault, thinks he's doing something wrong, and thats the reason why Kenma doesn't like it. He almost finds himself suggesting that maybe his friend should try it out with someone else; perhaps Shouyou - the two of them seemed to get along. The jealous thought of their lips on someone else's stops him, however, an ugly emotion which he knows he has no right to foster. 

Kenma can see his mind working, watches in their peripheral vision as he rubs the back of his neck and stares up into the foggy sky. Their concentration falters, they miss a combo, and then they're left standing there with a quietly buzzing phone. They want to say something about how it isnt his fault, how, if they have to let anyone else's lips touch theirs, his would be the first choice. 

But they've never been the best with words, so they shuffle over instead, gently lean against his side. Kuroo's surprised; the usual dynamic is him showering Kenma with affection until they finally get annoyed enough to comment. 

And he understands; understands what this action means. 

Brow relaxing and scowl turning up at the edges, he huffs out a sigh, leaning gently in towards the figure at his side. One hand slips from his own pocket to dip inside the others, a strange substitute to hand-holding that allows for both closeness and game high-scores. It's a pattern and a habit, this abrupt change of pace. They've both grown used to it, comfortable with it. 

So maybe Kuroo questions whether he takes the opportunity to kiss Kenma more than he rightly should, and maybe Kenma can't help but feel there might be something broken inside them. But it's okay, because they have each other, and that simple fact matters more than anything else.


	3. Trains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trains are a pastime that Kenma and Kuroo have long since learnt to deal with.

Train rides were a natural part of life: the underground tunnels threaded throughout the entirety of Japan, a network of silvery rails. Kenma feels as though they must have spent at least a third of their life stuffed inside one giant metal tube or another. It isn't the form of transportation itself that bothers them, nor is it the long periods of time spent in stillness ((the aspect that Kuroo finds it in himself to complain about every time they're forced to travel this way.))

No, it's the people. They're everywhere, hundreds of them, touching Kenma, pressed up against them in a way that makes their throat dry and their stomach churn. They can't handle it, the crush of bodies against their back, the touch of others against their skin. The low hum of a hundred different conversations makes their head spin, eyes blinking rapidly, too unfocused to continue their game.

But there's a shifting at their side, and then large hands pulling them close, long arms encircling them. Kuroo dips his head down to press his chin against Kenma's head, and he's folded around them completely, a suit of armour formed of flesh and bone.

He understands, he's known them long enough that there doesn't need to be any wasted phrases passed between the two. 

Kenma doesn't comment, neither thanks nor reprimands, but as they glance back to their phone they find themselves folding slowly into the tall boys chest. 

The people disperse one by one, wandering off into the looming of the night, to homes, to jobs, to families. Kuroo and Kenma's stop is the end of the line, a lengthy journey that soon finds the train compartment deserted. 

Kuroo pulls his smaller companion to the seats lining either side of the space. A glance at the phone over their shoulder tells him they have close to half an hour left still. With a sigh, he leans back into the wall, long legs stretching out before him. At his side, Kenma curls into themself, small rectangle of light illuminating their face. Kuroo finds himself grinning and reaching out to tip them in towards him, the complete lack of resistance they exhibit widening his smirk. 

Kenma knows that encouraging Kuroo is never a good idea, but it's more comfortable leaning on his shoulder, and they're a little too tired to really care. Pulling their feet up onto the chair, they curl into his side, head nestling into the warmth of his arm. Kuroo wants to make a cat joke, but he can't think of anything original enough, and his companion would likely have already heard it anyway.

It's a few long minutes before the light of a phone screen flickers out, and Kuroo glances down to his side. Slack fingers slowly let the device slide onto a lap, the rise and fall of a chest slow, and Kuroo feels the small figure slowly relax. A quiet smile to himself, and he reaches out gently to retrieve Kenma's treasured device, wary of it falling. 

The stops flash by in a jumble of lights and voices, and there's not long before Kuroo finds the train sliding to a halt at their destination. Slowly, he reaches out, hands soft on Kenma's shoulders, voice quiet as he does his best to wake him.

The other blinks sleepily, long lashes tangling and mouth widening in a yawn. The back of a hand rubbed against leadened eyelids, and they're looking up at him through a tangled mess of hair. 

"Kuroo ... ? What is it?" comes the sleepy query. 

The darker haired boy cracks a grin, holding out Kenma's phone to them. 

"This is our stop."


End file.
